Across this sea of low cut clowns
Clouds of exponential oppression coat your backs
And I wish how I was, And I wish how I was any place
So much better than this
But fully aware that none will ever exist
You trickle your bastard pop and hip crack rocks down my throat
Whats the goddamn point in trying
And so we dance all night, until this night has left me bruised and bleeding
And so we dance all night, I'll be back until I've got no feeling
Under a flashing neon sky with the misfits and the princes, Slurred incurred advances, feel rejection through avoiding glances
This is social flagellation at its best
Protracted violation at its best
Won't you hold my sjambok while I finger your abscess
from Bastard Pop EP,
track released March 3, 2012
All music and lyrics composed, arranged and performed by Few Last Wolves.
Recorded by Peter Baldwin at Black Mountain Studios, 2011.
Mixed and Mastered by Fergal Davis at Suite Studios, Dublin, 2012.